


A Promise Made, A Promise Kept

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Other, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late birthday present for my friend Defira, and a fill for the following prompt on the k!meme:  <i>So, after Dissent, if you talk to Elthina or Cullen you have the option of showing them Ser Alrik's papers. It's clear that both of them think you had something to do with Alrik's death but decide to ignore it, which is intriguing enough. However, I'm far more interested in the following exchange:</i></p><p><i>HAWKE: Your Ser Alrik was working on a plan to turn all mages Tranquil.<br/>CULLEN: It's true there has been some discussion of the idea, but as you can see, it has gone no further than that.<br/>ANDERS: You expect us to believe that?<br/>CULLEN: Believe what you like, mage.</i></p><p><i>I know Meredith knows that Mage!Hawke is an apostate and lets it slide, but that's when Hawke is Champion of Kirkwall and has all the nobles on his/her side. This happens in Act II, Hawke is just a newly-rich Fereldan refugee and Anders is...a poor apostate escaped from the Circle running an illegal clinic. He even mentions the Templar know he's there and are looking for him. </i></p><p><i>What's the story here?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise Made, A Promise Kept

Cullen stared at the small group in front of him, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of calm. Hawke spoke to him curtly, obviously angered by the expected responses he'd parroted. But Meredith's people were _everywhere_ , and if he wanted to maintain his position as Knight-Captain, Cullen knew he had to keep up the appearance he'd cultivated.

"You play a dangerous game in coming here, Lady Hawke," he said carefully, quietly. "You've done much for Keran and Macha, and your new standing in the city guarantees you a measure of protection not granted to most people in your position. But I would not test the Knight-Commander's patience further, especially considering the company you bring with you."

The blond man at her side stiffened and glared at him, and Cullen stared impassively back, ignoring the faint ache in his chest. He _would not_ react, would not betray to the eyes watching that anything out of the ordinary was occurring.

"Threats? I never thought you'd stoop so low, _Knight-Captain_ ," Anders said at last, tone thick with disgust.

Hawke looked back and forth between the two of them, realizing, finally, that a finely drawn thread of tension twanged between the two men, some unknown undercurrent tying them together in a way she couldn't fathom.

"Anders?" she said, quietly, and when she put her hand in his, Cullen sighed internally with relief. _She will protect him. Thank the Maker._

"This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion," he answered tiredly. "You've never understood. I accept that. But do _not_ -" he stared intently into the all-too familiar eyes, "do _not_ presume to judge that which you have refused to even _attempt_ to comprehend for nigh on two decades."

Anders stepped forward, mouth twisted with anger. "What is there to understand?" he said, voice low, raw.

"Get out." Cullen clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to reach out and shake him, to try and make him _listen_ \- "Get him out of here, Hawke, before he draws attention to that which should remain hidden in a place such as this."

Hawke's eyes widened. "Andraste's tits, Anders, he _knows?_ " she said, and he shook his head once, tightly, in negation. "It's not what you think, Hawke. Let's go."

Cullen turned away and started towards the portcullis leading to the Gallows proper. If he was lucky, attention would linger on _him_ instead of the three mages and the dwarf standing in front of him.

" _Bastard_ ," came the taunting imprecation behind him, and Cullen turned, suddenly, goaded into reaction.

"You just can't resist, can you," he said, "Always pushing, pushing, pushing until I push back. Keep pushing, _mój bracie_ , and when Meredith realizes just how much I've hidden to protect you, I'll be dismissed, and you three will be in here, branded and mindless. Just keep pushing."

They stared at each other for a long moment- Anders turned suddenly and stalked away, followed by Hawke and the elf girl. The dwarf stood next to Cullen for a moment longer, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

" _mój bracie_ ," he said, "What is that, Anderfellian?"

Cullen stared down at the beardless dwarf, and remembered the first time they'd met, _after_.

He'd run away to Calenhad as soon as he turned sixteen, a scant four months after they'd taken Szczepan away, crying and screaming. He'd thrown away all markers of his past, had thrown away the boy who used to be Mikolaj, playing with the syllables in trade tongue- Mikolaj, Nicholas, Colin, Cullen.

Cullen was a good, sturdy Fereldan name. It would do.

When he'd arrived at the Circle Tower, young, brash, homeless, and presented himself for training, Knight-Commander Greagoir had questioned him. No, he'd answered, he didn't have any family. He was- an orphan, yes. He'd work hard to protect good, innocent folk from the dangerous, demonic powers of the mage-born.

He'd been tested, and whatever they'd been looking for, they'd found it- the latent connection to the Fade that all but screamed _relative of a mage_ , the necessary component for wielding their lyrium-enhanced powers. But he hadn't known about that until much, much later, and by then it didn't matter- this was his calling, his purpose.

When Szczepan had been placed in his four-year old arms, so many years ago, he'd sworn to protect him, wringing a smile out of his normally dour father. Maker help him, he was going to keep that promise, no matter what.

And one day, a few months after he'd become a recruit, they'd crossed paths at last- Cullen in his initiate garb, Szczepan (who was now being called, uncreatively enough, "Anders") in a set of plain apprentice robes.

 _Thank the Maker, he is safe_ , he'd thought with relief, but the look of sheer _betrayal_ on Anders' face had staggered Cullen. _Wait_ , he'd thought, as his brother had been marched away with the other mage children, _Don't you see? I'm here to protect you, brother. I'll never let them harm you, I swear. But if they know, they'll separate us, send me away- I'm doing this for_ you _, Szczepan._

Cullen had done what he could, over the years, although Uldred's demons had nearly broken him, had borne in him an echo of the fear his own father had felt, so strongly, on the day he cast Szczepan out- fear of what a mage could do, could become.

But when Anders had escaped for the last time (and oh, how many favors he'd called in over the years to keep his little brother from being made Tranquil), had become of all things a _Grey Warden_ , and had somehow escaped to Kirkwall, Cullen had taken the phylactery he'd stolen years before and followed, using the collateral he'd garnered as one of the few survivors of the Tower debacle to arrange a transfer. Because Kirkwall was full of templars, and the Gallows was much, much worse place for mages than the Circle Tower.

"Yes," he said to the dwarf, "It's Anderfellian. Now if you'll excuse me-"

From across the courtyard, he watched another set of eyes track the group, one of the newer recruits, the blue-eyed Little Hawke. Blue eyes watched his sister leave, expression unguarded, miserable. Cullen began to make his way across the courtyard, to arrange a quiet talk with the Little Hawke. A talk about discretion, of quiet rebellion, of hidden insurrection and misdirection. Because things were coming to a head in Kirkwall, Meredith growing ever more paranoid by the day, and someday, when it all came crashing down, it would fall on their shoulders to protect, to guard, to save. Would fall to people like Thrask, Keran, Carver- and him.

Cullen had sworn, on that day so long ago, that he'd protect his brother, and by the Maker, he would continue to do so, to weave this complicated web of alliances and favors and misinformation, to turn Templar eyes the other way. Even if his own brother despised him, reviled him, misunderstood him- none of it mattered, because a promise was a promise, and would be kept, no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- _mój bracie_ is Polish for "my brother", and Szczepan is my headcanon of Anders' real name, which would be anglicized to Stefan. Polish fixed thanks to input from a dear reader!nonny on the k!meme!


End file.
